Most of you know that I am a music fan. Last year I went to a few concerts, and I happen to kinda like a band named Keane. So today I thought I'd update you on some music goings on. Earlier I told you that I went to watch Snow Patrol on Good Morning America. I really like Snow Patrol, and their latest CD, Eyes Open, has been my favorite this year. But my true music love is Keane. On Tuesday their new CD, Under the Iron Sea, was finally released in the US. I have waited a very long time for this. I have also been a little apprehensive. The sophmore CD is a tough one--especially after a stellar debut album. This new one is different from Hopes and Fears, and there is something in their sound that will take some getting used to. But I like it, and I look forward to loving it.
Since Keane arrived in the US, I have seen them in concert 3 times, and I was determined to see them here in New York. In fact, when tickets went on sale for the June 23rd show (yes, tonight) I was online trying to purchase. To my grave disappointment the show sold out in TWO MINUTES. However, I was determined to try Craigslist later on. But I had a bit of a moral dilemma. I am pretty much poor. My intern salary is only $10/hour, so I really didn't think I should spend my hard earned dollars on a concert when rent is so expensive. I definitely vascilated.
The other day I did check out Craigslist because I decided that I could afford a $35.00 ticket to my Favorite Band for Life. To my horror most of the posts (and by most I mean 98%) were for people wanting to buy tickets and they were willing to spend $300 for them. I could not compete with that. My two coworkers, Ian and Tricia tried to talk me into going down to the Bowery Ballroom anyway and getting a ticket from someone desperate to get rid of one. Honestly, if I was desperate to sell, I would still hold out for someone more desperate than me. I came close to going, but I had to go home after work, and I chickened out.
I am seriously the wierdest girl. How is it that I am brave enough to quit my job and move across the country, but I cannot attempt to meet or see my favorite musicians? (Most of you may recall my poor decision last year in Austin that kept me from meeting Keane. And my Snow Patrol half-effort) I am soo lame!!! I just hope Keane comes back to New York soon, and I will try again. People familiar with the new album should chuckle. Try Again is the name of one of the songs...a really pretty one, too.
I did attend a concert on Sunday. Now, don't think that I am a heathen; I actually saw Gladys Knight and the Saints United Voices choir...not the Pips. This choir is Sister Gladys Knight's missionary tool, and I must admit that she does a fabulous job. The largest focus of the concert was to share her testimony with those not of our faith. The music was not at all what one would hear at a regular church service or EFY fireside. It was more reminiscent of a revival meeting. We were even encouraged to clap our hands. For those readers that are not Mormon, I should let you know that we do not clap in church. But we were allowed to do so on Sunday, and it was fun. Gladys Knight has done a great job with her choir, and she is fun to watch as a chorister--she dances around. I wonder if Mac Wilberg or Craig Jessop of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir will ever start dancing. Probably not. Gladys Knight sang one of our classic hymns, I Am a Child of God. This hymn is important for our church and has been translated in practically every language. On Sunday I heard it in a new language--gospel. It was pretty cool. I have to admit that gospel/religious non-hymn is NOT my favorite music genre. I usually classify it with country or Backstreet Boys (unlistenable), but I appreciate the goal and efforts of the choir.
I really wanted her to sing "A Midnight Train to Georgia" but I guess that doesn't really classify as a church song.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Sunday, June 11, 2006
We are having really great weather today. The sun is bright, but the breeze keeps the temperature down. When it is nice like this I am sad that I have to spend so much time underground in the subway system. I don't think there is a day that I have not gotten on the subway since I have been here. Generally, I don't really hang out in my 'hood. When I am not at home I hop the C train, connect to the A and explore Soho, Chelsea, and wherever. And of course, on Monday through Friday, I go to work. In the four weeks that I have been using the subways, I haven't had too many mishaps or experiences. I got lost a little bit my first day and I saw my first rat(s) in a subway, but that was it--until last Friday.
On Friday I should have stayed late at work to get more done on a project. I didn't have too, but since I was meeting friends for dinner, I wanted to go home, freshen up, and drop off the milk I wanted to purchase on my way home. None of that agenda (except for meeting friends) was all that important, but I did it just the same. On my way back downtown I did my usual C to A train switch, and sat back for what should have been a quick trip downtown. Shortly before we got the 125th Street station, the train stopped. This is not unusual by any means, so I waited for the train to move while patting myself on the back for leaving my house an hour before I had to meet Erika and Sara. Soon the conductor's voice came on the loudspeaker to explain why we weren't going anywhere. I heard him say something to effect that the train just ahead of us in the station had broken down and there was an investigation. He assured us that we would be moving soon. After a few minutes the train did inch foward, but we had not travelled too far before we stopped again.
I glanced around at the annoyed faces around me, and I am certain that my eyes echoed the sentiments. Then the conductor came on again, and told us that if we wanted to leave the train, we had to move up to the first car. The cars were not overly full, so the cattle drive to the front was almost pleasant. Teen-age boys held the doors open, and passengers exchanged comments about the goings on in the subway system. I say it was almost pleasant, because an unfortunate man was not feeling too well and started to vomit. So we all had to dodge the splatter on the way to the next car. I felt sorry for him. If we hadn't had to stall, he could have purged in a less public place. As he retched, a few people giggled, but I think most people felt sorry for him. I assume so because New Yorkers don't have a problem voicing their opinions.
The herd stopped and waited. Soon the train shut down completely; both the air conditioner and lights went off. The emergency lights were illuminated so weren't totally in the dark. For a while no one moved, and no one knew what was going on. After five minutes or so I saw the people in front moving again, and we all headed towards the front. But not only did we have to go through the whole A train, we also had to go through the D that was stuck at the platform. As I emerged from the train a group of subway workers and a couple of detectives ushered us away from the platform. I wasn't sure what to do at this point. We were led away from the downtown platform, but I knew that other downtown trains stop at that station, so why couldn't I just get on one of those. I caught up with a lady that I exchanged a few crisis pleasantries with to get an idea of the situation. She informed me that the D train was not stalled because it broke down; it stalled because someone either jumped or was pushed in front of the moving train. She prayed that he was still alive. Oh. I was no longer annoyed about being late to meet my friends.
Obviously this is not the kind of story that you all want to read, I am sure. But sadly, this happens on the subway. A lot happens on the subways. People read, sleep, daydream, meet old friends, flirt with new ones, kiss, scold children, cry, laugh, sing, sell,beg, start their days, and sadly some end their days. When people are tense from the work week, tempers are short, and the accidental push can cause a near brawl. But there is always compassion. On that Friday before we stalled, I one-armed man walked through our train playing a few notes on a harmonica. He held on to the instrument with his limbless shoulder, and in the other he held a cup to collect change. He couldn't play very well--only three notes--but I think he collected more change than anyone else I've seen.
Saturday's lesson in compassion taught me a lot about judging others. On my way home from Chelsea Markets I decided to take the local C train. the ride is longer than the express A, but it takes me directly to my stop. After we left the station, I kind of regretted my car choice. There were a group of young ladies with strollers laughing and carrying on a little irreverently. One girl was particularly loud. She swore, laughed loudly, and was generally obnoxious. If a young guy sat down, she would sit next to him--closely--and would loudly flirt with the guy. A lot of times these boys would leave the train at the next station. I rolled my eyes, contemplated the welfare of their kids and futures. As did a few others on my side of the train car.
A few stops later a girl entered our car, and asked if anyone had anything to drink. She was thirsty, but also looked a little upset. I didn't have anything, and a few others pretended not to hear. The obnoxious girl did hear, and offered her a bottle of apple juice that had not been open. She wasn't loud when she offered the beverage. Her loud, bawdy tone and demeaner shifted as she graciously gave that girl that drink she needed. My opinion of that loud girl changed. She helped when no one else could or would.
The thirsty girl was indeed upset. She wiped away tears as she stood and drank her juice. But she didn't stay with us long; she decided to go to another car. On her way to the other car, that once-obnoxious girl also gave her a Kleenex to wipe her eyes. After that one girl left, the one who was loud continued to laugh, swear, and flirt with the young male passengers, but after seeing her kind gestures, I was more amused than annoyed.
Even though the subway smells bad, is crowded in the a.m., and has it's disturbing moments, I appreciate the subway. Not only because it costs less than gas. I also appreciate the glimpses of good human nature in this very dog eat dog world.
On Friday I should have stayed late at work to get more done on a project. I didn't have too, but since I was meeting friends for dinner, I wanted to go home, freshen up, and drop off the milk I wanted to purchase on my way home. None of that agenda (except for meeting friends) was all that important, but I did it just the same. On my way back downtown I did my usual C to A train switch, and sat back for what should have been a quick trip downtown. Shortly before we got the 125th Street station, the train stopped. This is not unusual by any means, so I waited for the train to move while patting myself on the back for leaving my house an hour before I had to meet Erika and Sara. Soon the conductor's voice came on the loudspeaker to explain why we weren't going anywhere. I heard him say something to effect that the train just ahead of us in the station had broken down and there was an investigation. He assured us that we would be moving soon. After a few minutes the train did inch foward, but we had not travelled too far before we stopped again.
I glanced around at the annoyed faces around me, and I am certain that my eyes echoed the sentiments. Then the conductor came on again, and told us that if we wanted to leave the train, we had to move up to the first car. The cars were not overly full, so the cattle drive to the front was almost pleasant. Teen-age boys held the doors open, and passengers exchanged comments about the goings on in the subway system. I say it was almost pleasant, because an unfortunate man was not feeling too well and started to vomit. So we all had to dodge the splatter on the way to the next car. I felt sorry for him. If we hadn't had to stall, he could have purged in a less public place. As he retched, a few people giggled, but I think most people felt sorry for him. I assume so because New Yorkers don't have a problem voicing their opinions.
The herd stopped and waited. Soon the train shut down completely; both the air conditioner and lights went off. The emergency lights were illuminated so weren't totally in the dark. For a while no one moved, and no one knew what was going on. After five minutes or so I saw the people in front moving again, and we all headed towards the front. But not only did we have to go through the whole A train, we also had to go through the D that was stuck at the platform. As I emerged from the train a group of subway workers and a couple of detectives ushered us away from the platform. I wasn't sure what to do at this point. We were led away from the downtown platform, but I knew that other downtown trains stop at that station, so why couldn't I just get on one of those. I caught up with a lady that I exchanged a few crisis pleasantries with to get an idea of the situation. She informed me that the D train was not stalled because it broke down; it stalled because someone either jumped or was pushed in front of the moving train. She prayed that he was still alive. Oh. I was no longer annoyed about being late to meet my friends.
Obviously this is not the kind of story that you all want to read, I am sure. But sadly, this happens on the subway. A lot happens on the subways. People read, sleep, daydream, meet old friends, flirt with new ones, kiss, scold children, cry, laugh, sing, sell,beg, start their days, and sadly some end their days. When people are tense from the work week, tempers are short, and the accidental push can cause a near brawl. But there is always compassion. On that Friday before we stalled, I one-armed man walked through our train playing a few notes on a harmonica. He held on to the instrument with his limbless shoulder, and in the other he held a cup to collect change. He couldn't play very well--only three notes--but I think he collected more change than anyone else I've seen.
Saturday's lesson in compassion taught me a lot about judging others. On my way home from Chelsea Markets I decided to take the local C train. the ride is longer than the express A, but it takes me directly to my stop. After we left the station, I kind of regretted my car choice. There were a group of young ladies with strollers laughing and carrying on a little irreverently. One girl was particularly loud. She swore, laughed loudly, and was generally obnoxious. If a young guy sat down, she would sit next to him--closely--and would loudly flirt with the guy. A lot of times these boys would leave the train at the next station. I rolled my eyes, contemplated the welfare of their kids and futures. As did a few others on my side of the train car.
A few stops later a girl entered our car, and asked if anyone had anything to drink. She was thirsty, but also looked a little upset. I didn't have anything, and a few others pretended not to hear. The obnoxious girl did hear, and offered her a bottle of apple juice that had not been open. She wasn't loud when she offered the beverage. Her loud, bawdy tone and demeaner shifted as she graciously gave that girl that drink she needed. My opinion of that loud girl changed. She helped when no one else could or would.
The thirsty girl was indeed upset. She wiped away tears as she stood and drank her juice. But she didn't stay with us long; she decided to go to another car. On her way to the other car, that once-obnoxious girl also gave her a Kleenex to wipe her eyes. After that one girl left, the one who was loud continued to laugh, swear, and flirt with the young male passengers, but after seeing her kind gestures, I was more amused than annoyed.
Even though the subway smells bad, is crowded in the a.m., and has it's disturbing moments, I appreciate the subway. Not only because it costs less than gas. I also appreciate the glimpses of good human nature in this very dog eat dog world.
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